It's
late Saturday night
in the youth of your mind
you're parked in a blue '59 boredom
when down the strip
your best girl and six full moons
come motoring for the setting sea
the radio's on playing their tunes
everybody's dancing in their sleep
they're opening red willow wings
laughing throats and crying strings
running smooth gaining speed
the left rear door is open
the invitation's unspoken
the ride's guaranteed